mal’s Weblog

{November 23, 2011}   Namazi…

Main namaz nahin parhti. Bhool gayee hoon kaise parhte hain.

Lekin mujhe iss baat ki sharmindagi bhi buhut hai.

Ho sakta hai shaitan isi sharmindagi ko istimaal kar k mujhe namaz parhne se aur rok raha hai, aur yeh cycle isi tarha chal rahi hai.

Lekin mera bhi kuch kam qusoor nahin. What’s stopping me from saying my prayers? What’s stopping me from re-learning, especially when I know that the last time it took me hardly 3 days to re-learn.

Har roz main niyyat karti hoon k iss baar when I am home for the whole day, I will take out my class 9 Islamiyat book and see how prayers are said, and then will start saying my prayers. Come that day and I need to catch up on my sleep and do my laundry and what not. Come that night, the circle of guilty planning begins yet again. And there goes another week, another month, another season, another Ramadan.

Iss baar tou rozay bhi chhoot gayay thhay mujh se, I was not well at all, was on pills for blood deficiency and what not, couldn’t walk the length of my house from drawing room to bedroom without beginning to pant – i was basically 92. I kept telling myself I’ll pick up from the end of Ramadan once I get back into my routine of the workaholic life I love, running around, meeting fast approaching deadlines, getting work done. It din’t happen.

Part of the reason I do not pray is also the fact that I face a lot of contradiction in my mind about the balance which one can or must strike between, say, listening to music, and praying. I guess what I’m trying to say is that when I think of saying my obligatory prayers, I get ashamed of the Maliha who loves to sing, sings, loves to act, acts, hangs out with mixed sex company, covers her head not. And that when I say my prayers, or when I used to, I felt ashamed of this Maliha. And that when I sang, or acted, or laughed with a male friend, or wore clothes to look and feel good, I felt ashamed of the Maliha standing in the corner, eyeing me so intensley as if ripping my clothes off, questioning my lack of practice of saying my prayers.

Another reason I feel unable to pray was that I felt that I turned to prayer only when in trouble or pain. Only when I wanted something only He could give me. So part of my guilt also told me I had no right to pray when I pray only selfishly.

So the other day, after a million or so days of contemplation as to which road I should choose, as to whether there is a possible balance which I could strike, as to whether striking such a balance is the right way to go or not – I started talking to God. Every day I used to ask Him to make me stronger enough in my intention to be able to put it to practice. Every other day I asked Him to help me make room in my busy schedule for that Islamiyat book and its chapter on namaz.

It did not work. For a long time. While on the one hand shaitan is to be blamed, I am no less guilty. I allowed shaitan to keep me from my duty, from my right to worship whom I please.

But the guilt was killing me. So I tried to talk to God yet another time. And this time, He gave me an answer.

I asked him to make me pray. He guided me that praying is not something at odds with music, or with feeling happy, or with laughing. If nothing at all, it was a way of thanking Him for all that I have. And I have a lot.

I may not have my music classes, I may not have a family that understands and lets me understand that music or acting or taking time out formyself does not mean I’m an awara besharam larki in the wrong culture. But I have education, I have the ability to comprehend, I have the kind of family who would at least hear me out (the number of times and ways i need to talk to them is another issue), I have friends, I have information, I have passion.

And I am thankful to the One and Only – Allah.

And though I have yet not started saying my prayers, or picked up that Islamiyat book, I know I am one real strong and big step closer to that. I’m almost there, God, I’m almost there. I can do it, I promise You, but I can’t do it without you. So don’t take my life yet, grant me the opportunity to take the few mroe small steps left over, and make this part of my routine. I know it is for my own benefit.

When I first sat down to pen these thoughts, it was coincidentally the time when Veena Malik was quite famous for the fatwa that mufti was dying to pass on her and how she stood her ground and the whole debate. My inspiration to pen them down, however, were my own experiences and mental debates.

There have been times when people have told me off for my interest in music, or my tendency towards acting, or my higher level of ease and comfort with and in the company of guys as compared to girls, and my natural need to hang out with guys cos they do not spend every second of their company bitching, but know how to chill having left all their worries behind them in that moment of company. Read the rest of this entry »

{January 13, 2011}   of Sir, and Sir’s.

Disclaimer: This is just a funny note, and penned only because i quite liked the imagery i came up with when discussing this slight issue with a friend. This note is in no way meant to disrespect my teacher – I have always respected my teachers, if not for the fact that they are my teachers, then at least for the fact that they are older to me, and are still my teachers. Read the rest of this entry »

{December 3, 2010}   so full of pain

she knows you’re trying to help her. she wants you to help her too. but all your efforts and all her wants are futile and pointless.

if you try to help her, talk to her, about things other or the same, it will only hurt her more. you will touch her and she will bleed tears. Read the rest of this entry »

{November 30, 2010}   i dont laugh

it’s only with you that i laugh Read the rest of this entry »

{November 30, 2010}   and then there was she

what an utter slut.

{November 21, 2010}   feb 14, 2001 – 10:30pm

He was pouring himself a drink when he heard the click of a key turning in. He turned around and looked, almost hungrily. Read the rest of this entry »

{November 21, 2010}   Something stupid

I first heard this song (cover by Robbie Williams and Nicole Kidman) when I Read the rest of this entry »

She stuffed the notebook and pen in her bag, absentmindedly, or rather, habitually placing the things exactly where they belonged, and headed for the door again.

Her step had purpose to it.

She headed toward the door as someone yelled her name Read the rest of this entry »

She stuffed the notebook and pen in her bag, absentmindedly, or rather, habitually placing the things exactly where they belonged, and headed for the door again.

Her step had purpose to it.

She opened the the glass door, Read the rest of this entry »

{February 22, 2009}   how she dealt with her…

[part 1 – the beginning]

He had just rushed to class after spending a fleeting few moments with her in the cafeteria. She looked around, bored and lost, trying to figure out what to do next, making a mental to-do-list. she smiled when she recalled that only a few days ago he had started trying the (/her) to-do-list method of making sure important stuff was not missed.

She drained her cup of almost-very sweet tea, grabbed her yellow notebook and a pen that wrote beautifully, and wandered out to the …notice board, photocopier, library, wherever ‘it’ took her, ‘it’ being that which tells you “Oh, you had to do this and you had to do that!”

As she stepped out of the cafe, hi-hello-ing with peple around, waving at some, smiling and nodding at others, she saw ‘her’ in the foyer, sitting with a small bunch of friends, resting her back against the pillar. She took less than two seconds to make up her mind. She turned right around, keeping an eye on her nevertheless, to return her notebook and pen to her bag in the cafe

She found someone else occupying the place she had saved for themselves (herself and him) with her bag kept there as a mark. A relatively trivial bit of annoyance rose within her but what she had on her mind was far more important as of right then. She stuffed the notebook and pen in her bag, absentmindedly, or rather, habitually placing the things exactly where they belonged, and headed for the door again.

Her step had purpose to it.



For [part 2 – the ending]: you have a choice. This choice depends on certain factors which i wish to keep from you at least for now. Happy forever after 🙂

– Ending (a) can be found here:

– Ending (b) can be found here:

“So tonight you’re gonna go to sleep loving her” she said to him in her imagination.
It wasn’t a declaration, really.
It wasn’t a question either…. or maybe it was.
She wasn’t sure.

She didn’t want him to go to sleep thinking about HER because she had somehow suggested it to him…. so she unimagined the statement…….. but her night was no longer a time she could relax. All the ‘rest’ had just been stolen from yet another of her nights.

“Why can’t i just ‘not think’!?” she asked the dark silence in silent anger!

It was a sign of how frustrated she was used to getting – her talking to herself: asking questions, answering them herself, justifying notions that didn’t make sense, and, when all else failed, going to sleep lying to herself, sighing to herself in false comfort, “Well, you know what, chill. This is another night. Go to sleep. Wake up tomorrow to a whole new day, and start anew – afresh – y’know: zero-balance :)”

(Wednesday, December 21, 2005 – 11:14 p.m.)

et cetera
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